


Gentle Knocks

by nuclearwinter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Cousin Incest, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humanstuck, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearwinter/pseuds/nuclearwinter
Summary: Dave's sister is travelling to visit her girlfriend in Japan - and Dave and Dirk have tagged along. To give the girls space, they have their own plans - and alone together in an unfamilliar world, little gestures take on new meanings.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39
Collections: Stridercest Secret Santa





	Gentle Knocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brorito_Dorito_Daddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brorito_Dorito_Daddy/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Softie! From your wishlist I tried to include: Acts of love/exploration of love languages, vacationing, and Dave instigating. I hope that it hit the mark...! It was really fun to write these guys vacationing and being gay and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

When the evening comes,

From the rice leaves at my gate,

Gentle knocks are heard,

And, into my round rush-hut,

Enters autumn's roaming breeze.

ーMinamoto no Tsunenobu

* * *

"I see why my sister asked us to come now," Dave mutters to Dirk as they haul all Rose's luggage as well as their own through the final corridors of Narita airport. Rose is speedwalking ahead of them, primping at her sleep-flattened hair.

He isn't actually annoyed, though. He feels his heart melt a little as they round the last corner and find her embracing her girlfriend in the crowd of people waiting at arrivals. In many ways Japan and the USA are a universe apart, and the two of them have waited a long time to be together.

"Kanaya," says Rose, breaking away. "As I'm sure you have deduced, this is my brother Dave, and my cousin Dirk."

Dirk dumps his half of Rose's luggage next to them. "Nice to meet you Kanaya," he says. "Your girlfriend has been delivered. No need to sign for her, this is a contact-free drop off."

For a second, Dave thinks maybe the joke won't land. Then, she lets go of Rose to give an elegant bow. "Your service is much appreciated. Please note we do not tip in this country, however I could make an exception."

"No need ma'am," says Dave.

"Our hotel check-in closes at 10PM," Dirk adds, now thumbing at his phone. "We should get going."

"I'm very sorry to not be able to provide you accommodations," says Kanaya, and Dave can tell this time she is being completely sincere. "My apartment is very small…"

"Nah," Dave cuts in. "We wouldn't want to intrude anyway." He resists the urge to wink at Rose.

Rose does not resist her own apparently identical urge, from her position under Kanaya's arm. "Go on, boys," she says. "You can message us any time if you're having any language barrier issues."

After final goodbyes and contact detail exchanges, Rose and Kanaya head towards the trains, and Dave follows Dirk… wherever they are going. His brain is honestly fried after the unbelievably long flight. He'd never have been able to make this journey by himself. They queue for something, Dave fighting not to doze on his feet, and then Dirk leads him outside to a bus zone. He hugs his hoodie tighter to himself against the nip of the autumn night as Dirk deals with the porter.

"Sorry I'm making you do everything here," Dave mumbles, when they're finally seated. He can barely focus on the scenery outside, streaks of light zipping in the dark.

"Don't sweat it," says Dirk, and out of nowhere his long warm fingers are squeezing Dave's. They are the tightest of bros, but they're only very rarely touchy-feely, and that's definitely the only reason why Dave's stomach does a small flip. "I like showing off my Japanese skills."

"Your Japanese skills are pretty… Sugoi." Belatedly Dave remembers he is actually in Japan and he's probably going to get stared at if he uses random words ironically. But Dirk laughs under his breath, so mission success.

*

Dirk gets to show off plenty more Japanese at the hotel in Shinjuku: at the desk, in the elevator, and then finally when they're in their room and Dave realises he can't figure out the toilet.

It's that last one that he's sure is finally going to make Dirk crack, get tired of him and tell him to use Google translate or something, but Dirk crouches in the tiny bathroom and patiently explains the buttons. He honestly looks pretty happy, but maybe that's just residual weeb glow at being in the homeland?

"Just let me know if you need anything else," Dirk says, voice warm, before closing the door so Dave can finally, finally poop.

*

Dave wakes up at some ungodly hour. 7AM, his phone tells him. 4PM, his brain is insisting. He looks over to find Dirk still passed out, the hotel yukata gone loose and slipping off his shoulder. They'd mainly worn them for the silly snaps to send Rose and Kanaya, but right now, the sight isn't making Dave want to laugh. Dirk has a cluster of freckles right on his shoulder, the tops baked browner than the tender undersides of his elbow, his wrist.

Dave is noticing these things because he's a photographer. It's an art thing. Normies wouldn't get it. The room feels tiny, the air warm and close. He turns over and forces his mind to focus on the strange sinking softness of the down pillow instead, the crispness of the sheets against his bare legs escaping from the yukata.

Just a few hours more. Then he's waking Dirk and they're going to leave this bubble of a room and get some fresh air.

*

Dirk had been smart enough to factor the jetlag into their itinerary, but even so Dave is surprised at how crap the both of them feel. They leave the hotel to scrounge for food, and end up at Japanese Denny's, which is oddly fancy and features a completely unfamiliar menu. Rose sends an unimpressed selfie in response to the snap, but Dave and Dirk enjoy the surreal experience.

"I was thinking we could go to a bathhouse after this," says Dirk, while Dave finishes off his oddly too-sweet pancakes. "Relax for a while and then get some food to take back. Then we can just check out the TV."

Dave agrees to this plan easily, and then finds out, in the bathhouse locker area, that you actually don't wear towels into the water.

"The animes lied to me," he complains, clutching a tiny fucking washcloth over his junk as they make their way to the wash stations.

Dirk doesn't seem to be fazed at all. His orange eyes flick to Dave, and Dave stares resolutely forward so he doesn't have to know where exactly Dirk is looking. Despite their closeness, this is only the second time he's seen Dirk with his shades off. The first time was this morning, when he blinked up at Dave through white lashes, fuzzy from sleep.

"We gotta wash before we go in the bath," Dirk explains, steering Dave to two empty stations. Dave tries to balance one ass cheek on a tiny stool as he suds up with the provided amenities, extremely aware of Dirk doing the same thing beside him.

His nerves start to calm, though, as he realises they're alone apart from a handful of grandpas. Guess lunch time isn't exactly peak bathing hours.

Once clean, they soak in the big pool. Dirk wades out to the outside area, and Dave follows. He doesn't know if it's the steam or the jetlag, but everything feels weirdly floaty, like he's in a dream. He leans his face on a cool rock and listens to Dirk talk about formal and informal verbs.

*

The next day, they're both feeling more like themselves. Dave's hair is going strange in the dry fall weather, or maybe the unfamiliar shampoos, silky and slippery and losing its body. He stares at himself in the mirror, wondering if he's going strange.

Today is marked out for a special trip to the countryside, so Dave can take photos of the rural landscapes and curiosities. Dave had already researched a route: they stand all the way on a packed city train to Hachioji, then wobble to reserved seats on an express train to Kobuchizawa.

Dirk had helped with ordering the tickets, even though Dave knows he'd much rather be exploring the city. Well, Dave has an idea.

"What's this?" Dirk says, beside him. He'd seen the message with the file download straight away.

Dave could lie. He could say it was just some stuff he'd been working on. He could say he just wanted Dirk's opinion.

"Mixtape," he says instead. "We're on this train for like two hours, and we gotta catch another one after this. Gotta keep you entertained somehow."

"You don't think we manage to keep ourselves entertained?" Dirk sounds kind of thoughtful. "Since when do we run out of things to talk about?"

"All right, you got me. You've been flexing on me for the past two days with the language skills. Maybe I wanna show off too," he lies, and Dirk smiles, putting his ear buds in.

Out the window, the muted cityscapes bleed away into farmland bracketed by blue mountains, and long pockets of villages with red tiled roofs glinting in the sun.

Dave swallows all his questions about what Dirk thinks of the music, and settles in for the journey.

*

The next train is like something out of a movie. There's an honest to God whistle on it. It chugs its way through the forest, red and gold leaves filling all the windows like they're in a fishtank. Dave tries to take photos, but the only thing that stays in focus is Dirk, haloed by the forest.

The train station at the destination is deserted, aside from a bent-backed old woman sweeping leaves. The air is damper here, the smell of leaf litter and mud is strong as the two of them venture out and down a thin concrete path between rice fields, the plants bowing under the loads of their unharvested grain. Dave snaps a picture, trying to get the angle of the misted mountains behind the stalk in focus just so.

Dirk yelps behind him, and Dave turns to see him just barely masking a face of disgust - at his feet, tiny frogs are coming out of the rice field mud and hopping across the path.

"Aw, it's just a little guy," Dave says, squatting so he can snap one. Ooh, there's a snail on the path too.

"Yeah, like fifty of them," says Dirk. Dave tears his face from the viewfinder to see Dirk swatting at bugs. Okay, so maybe there are a lot more creepy crawlies in the rice paddy than he had imagined. Also is this private property? It looks like a road though…

He reluctantly puts his camera back around his neck and leads Dirk away from the field and back onto the wider road. There's some kind of tiny shrine by the wayside, the paint old and flaking, but there are fresh, clean jars of sake left on the altar. Dirk wanders closer to it, absorbing the details, and nearly unconsciously Dave brings the camera back up to his face. He snaps and catches a series of moments as Dirk straightens a toppled vase of flowers, his gentle fingers brushing autumn leaves from the display, then turns to see what Dave is doing, sunlight dappled across the maple behind him and shining in his bright hair.

"You want me to pose?" he asks, face deadpan and fingers already coming up in a peace sign. Dave snaps it anyway, but he doesn't, he just wants Dirk.

Oh shit.

*

The country train is empty on the way home, aside from the one train driver, and them. The clouds have rolled in and the shadows stretch long, and when Dave wiggles into Dirk's warmth on the bench seat, Dirk doesn't move, doesn't say anything. Their fingers are squashed together between their thighs on the seat. They could nearly hold hands.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

*

They're too tired for more exploring when they get home, but too awake to just sleep. Dirk proposes karaoke. They have their own little booth, which is cool, although the cushions kind of stink like cigarette smoke when he moves. They decide to get drinks before they sing… And then decide to get some food before they sing… And by then Dave is tipsy enough to admit he really doesn't want to sing.

Apparently that is okay, Dirk is fine with demolishing an ungodly amount of edamame beans and going through Dave's photos from the day. They're pressed together on this stinky couch and the booth is dark except for lazily spinning purple disco lights and this time there's not even a rural train driver around.

But Dave keeps his hands firmly on the camera.

*

He's tipsy, and is afraid of walking into traffic because it's all backwards. "You know why we drive on the right?" Dave says, gesturing to the backwards road. "Because it's RIGHT."

"You don't even drive," says Dirk, also fairly tipsy. Dave can tell, because Dirk is holding onto his arm pretty tight.

"Irrelevant," says Dave, and suddenly he has completely lost track of what he meant to say, because the thought of Dirk's hand in his is throbbing in his brain, and won't leave. "We should hold hands," he says.

"For crossing the street?" Dirk says, kind of breathlessly.

"Yeah," says Dave. "You've been holding my hand through this whole adventure anyway."

Dirk does uncurl his arm from Dave's to properly hold his hand, and Dave immediately laces his fingers in, so he can't do any take backs.

Dirk doesn't jerk away. He doesn't go rigid. He just squeezes Dave's fingers. "I like it," he says.

Dave doesn't want him to clarify. He doesn't want to know if Dirk means this figuratively or literally. He wants to live in Schrodinger's gay incest box.

And now he's thought The Word, suddenly this all feels extremely real. The smell of smoke clinging to both of them, the fuzzy taste of cheap whiskey on his own breath, the warmth of Dirk's hand.

But it doesn't feel bad.

"What else do you like?" he asks, putting his cheek on Dirk's shoulder so he doesn't have to look at his face. Yet.

*

Luckily there's two beds, Dave thinks, drunkenly. Rethinks that, because of course they got two beds. They booked this hotel as two bros who definitely wouldn't be sharing a bed. It wasn't luck, but it is a good thing, because he can tell they're about to ruin one of them and he definitely doesn't want to sleep in it.

They've been making out since they made it in the door, barely managing to get their shoes off. Dave has Dirk under him on the bed now, under the covers, the world a blur of soft hair and warm hands and white sheets. He grinds down, wanting more than soft, more than warm. He can't help it even though he knows he shouldn't want more, shouldn't want this at all. But Dirk is taking care of him, likes taking care of him, likes him. Wants him back. He can feel it, he can taste it.

"Do my thighs," says Dirk, suddenly, trying to flip over. Dave sits up just enough to let him, settling back in and pushing his nose into the damp hair at the back of his neck as soon as he can.

"You sure?" he says, even though he's already in position, he's already reaching for Dirk's hip with one hand.

"Yeah," says Dirk, wiping the hair from his face against the pillow. "I didn't bring any lube but like, checking out a Japanese sex shop was on my list."

"We can do that tomorrow," says Dave, shivering at the heat of Dirk's inner thighs.

"Tomorrow is my day for nerd stuff," says Dirk, but there's a smile in his voice.

"That doesn't seem hard to combine," Dave says, trying to keep his voice as even as possible as he starts to move. He pushes at the outside of Dirk's thigh with his hand with each stroke, and Dirk picks up the rhythm quick, legs squeezing perfectly.

"Shit, you're right. Probably have the best sex shops in the nerd district," Dirk says, voice also clearly straining to stay even. "You want to dress me up like a maid? Or a butler, or a catboy?"

"Maybe I want to be the catboy," says Dave, and then he has to swear, losing the poker face game.

"Shit, let's be catboys," Dirk intones into the pillow, and Dave crumbles even faster, laughing and swearing and giving in.

*

After a nap and a shower, they do it all over again, in the yukata this time.

*

The next day will be about nerd things, and then the itinerary is a lot more vague. Dave wouldn't mind hitting up Harajuku, Dirk has expressed interest in a sword museum. But it doesn't really matter what happens when. It's already the best vacation of Dave's life.


End file.
